


Rough Ride

by chains_archivist



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Boys in Chains, M/M, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:11:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3629406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Caroline Dare</p><p>Doyle and Bodie are undercover when Doyle's cover is broken. How far will Bodie go to keep his cover and his partner safe?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rough Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).

"He's a pretty one, innit he?"

The words came to Ray Doyle through a haze of pain. He lay curled up on his side, arms clutching his aching middle where he'd been brutally kicked and punched. Three biker toughs stood above him, arguing over his disposal.

"Shame to get rid of him wi'out trying him out once't or twice't."

"Ah, get yer mind out o' yer bloody trousers. He's dangerous; we better get rid o' him quick-like, before any o' his chums come lookin' for him."

_Yeah_ , Ray thought, _me chum Bodie. He'll come get me out of this mess_. Doyle's fingers clutched into his sides.   He hoped Bodie would hurry.

One of his assailants bent and gathered a fistful of curls, pulling Ray's head up and scrutinizing his face. "I think Johnny'll want a go at him first."

There was rude laughter at that pronouncement.

"Johnny's always ready for a go."

"He'd pay for this one."

"Think so?"

"Look at 'im." Hands wrenched Ray's head to one side, letting a lantern's beam fall on his grimacing features. "A right cherub, this. Yeah, Johnny'll pay."

"That'll take care of the problem, then.   None of Johnny's lads ever get home to talk about it."

More hands reached down for him, hoisting him up and over the lap of a biker on his cycle. His wrists were pulled behind his back and wired together. His toes touched the ground, but without purchase they could only drag along as the bike's engine sputtered to life and they roared down the rocky path.

It had been bloodyminded bad luck, Doyle thought sourly; his cover blown so quickly. Bodie had infiltrated the biker clan a week earlier, welcomed as a talented mechanic who souped up engines for a small fee in drugs or stolen property.   And then his turn had come, Ray's chance to show off his racing skills at an open competition. He'd made a good showing and tried to establish himself as a respectable (well, disreputable but skilled) rider, one who might be invited to join the core gang. Instead, he'd been recognized by three young nasties, the younger brother and cousins of a man he'd put away during his police days. They'd jumped him behind the grandstands and exacted some minor revenge before dragging him off to their clan.

He hadn't seen this Johnny they sniggered about, but he knew to whom they referred. Cowley had briefed him quite thoroughly on the twisted, tough gangleader and all his nasty little perversions. Had Cowley worried for his safety? Bodie had, he knew. Bodie, who always seemed to be watching him covertly, had opined that Doyle was too good-looking a waif to be working on this job. Ray had shrugged it off to the mother hen instinct Bodie possessed around him, but it appeared his partner had been right. Ray was in bad trouble now, and his looks were going to deliver him into worse.

Doyle watched blearily from his uncomfortable position as the path entered a sheltered wooded area, filled with camping bikers.

The group broke in on a celebratory party at the campsite. It seemed Johnny's team had won their race. Drinks and stronger intoxicants passed hand to hand, a communal swilling and slopping that was the closest most of the participants had ever come to hospitality. 

The three youths who'd captured him dragged Doyle from the bike and up to the main cooking fire. Two of them flanked him, keeping a tight grip above his elbows, the third jamming his finger through the belt loop on the back of Ray's jeans, hoisting Ray's ass with every other step. He managed perhaps one pace in three under his own power, propelled along mostly by their yanks and pushes.

Hoots and whistles followed their passage, the kind of salacious catcalls Doyle had grown used to in school gyms and locker rooms. Normally he liked the attention his body attracted. It was a kick, a bit of ego-boo to have all eyes turn his way, and he would bask in the spotlight of attention. But there was a big difference between strutting smugly before his mates, and being paraded handcuffed through a rowdy, randy camp of lowlifes.

Johnny was there presiding over all, perched on a low camp chair, his feet propped up before the cooking fire. Bodie sat behind him, a dutiful mechanic right down to his tool belt, cleaning and oiling engine parts.

Bodie saw Ray first, his instincts alerted by the grim knot of men even before Ray's face turned his way. Bodie's heart rate shot up to impossible heights, but he had a mask of indifference firmly in place by the time the group reached the central fire.

Johnny looked up idly at the newcomers, waiting for them to explain themselves.

"Got sumpthin' for you, Johnny. A real treat, this." The middle one of the three interlopers patted Doyle's curls. "Pretty eyes, pretty hair, pretty lips. Pretty arse, too."

Doyle watched Johnny warily as the gang leader's eyes explored his body coolly, taking in all his points. Ray knew that look of smoldering interest, had been the recipient of many such looks, but never in such helpless straits as these.   His eyes flickered down to Bodie, who met his gaze stonily. No help from that quarter yet. Not outnumbered like this.

"He could do," Johnny conceded.   "Get his shirt off."

Doyle jerked against their hold but barely delayed them ripping away his shirt. He shivered in the cool night air, bare torso goosefleshing over as their hands caressed him.

"Oh, yeah," Johnny said admiringly.   "Yeah, I think we could do a deal on this one."

He lumbered to his feet and stretched, displaying a big frame and hard muscles, then approached the bound figure. Doyle drew his head back as the biker reached out to touch his hair, but a hard smack from his captors stilled him. He suffered a tactile examination of his features, glaring back sullenly but silent as the big man stroked him.

"Nice," Johnny breathed, rubbing his thumbs over nipples stiffened by cold. Doyle's skin prickled with doubled chill. "How much d'you want for him?"

"A half kilo?"

"Seems a little light-weight for such a tasty morsel," the biker remarked, eyeing the bruised figure. "Are you giving me damaged goods?"

"Nah, we just knocked 'im about a bit.   He's good for anythin' yer plannin' t'do t'him. But we did want a little favor. He needs getting rid of when yer done w'him."

"What's he done?"

"Copper," spat the middle one.

An ugly murmuring went through the watchful camp. Not a one of the lot had anything but contempt for the authorities.

Bodie winced. _Ah Christ, Ray, how'm I going to get you out of this one?_

Johnny smiled maleficently at his captive.   "Is that so?" he asked softly. "Little copper come sniffing around for bad boys? And now you're going to find what you've been looking for." His fingers squeezed the patched denim over Ray's ass, slipping along the crease of the seam and delving down under his balls to prod hard.

Bodie's eyes were locked on Ray's. He willed his partner to hold still for it, to submit and not let the gang leader know what strength would be unleashed when the chance came for their break. Ray's green eyes flashed with venomous anger, but he stayed frozen under Bodie's stern gaze, swallowing a groan as the pressure of Johnny's fingers made him ache.

"Sensitive there, pretty?" Johnny asked mockingly. "Must come of wearing those jeans three sizes too small. We'd best get them off before you strangle."

Ray closed his eyes to Bodie's silent command. Johnny reached down again, but this time Ray's foot lashed up, shoving him back hard enough to knock over the cookingspit. Johnny twisted and cursed as his back was scorched by the fire. Bodie groaned to himself. Ray was in for it now. He would have to step in before his defiant golli got pulped.

But Bodie only had time to rise to his feet before Johnny had bounced back and pulled a gun from his waistband. Both Ray and Bodie froze, one watched now by the entire camp, the other unnoticed in the shadow of the unfolding drama.

_Shit,_ thought Doyle. A fate worse'n death didn't seem worse all of a sudden. Johnny cupped one hand under Doyle's chin, tracing over his broken cheekbone with the gun's muzzle. 

"Scrappy little cock o' the walk, eh?   Doesn't count for much when you're with real men, poppet." He tossed the gun up, caught it reversed, and lashed out with the butt quickly, striking Doyle's jaw and sending the bound man crashing down to the ground.

Galvanized by the attack, Bodie moved in, one hand concealing a folding knife dropped silently from inside his sleeve.

"Hang on a minute," he called, "I think I know his face." Bodie knelt beside the crumpled figure, unnerved by his stillness, using the pretext of examining his features to check for injury. Ray's pulse was steady, if rapid, but he was out cold.   Bodie shoved the palmed knife back up his sleeve. No point cutting Ray loose if his partner could not take advantage of freedom.

"Recognize 'im?" Johnny asked.

Ray's cover had already been blown. Bodie needed to keep his own. He nodded. 

"Yeah, Ray Doyle. Used to be with the Met." Inspiration struck. "Gave me an' my mates a stint in Reading. Been hopin' for a chance to get even." He looked up at the three men who'd dragged Ray to the campsite.   "Give you a full kilo of hash for him. Double what you asked for."

They grinned and hooted excitedly, but Johnny dropped between Bodie and Doyle, gripping the latter's lax arm possessively.   "He's already spoken for," the biker said coldly. He nodded to the group of three. "But I'll match the price. There's a full kilo waitin' in a locker at Maidstone. Here's the key."

A flash of metal spun up, snatched from the air by the middle intruder. With a heated jostling for its possession, the three newcomers hurried off, abandoning Ray to his fate. 

"All right, what d'you want for him?" Bodie asked quietly.

A corner of Johnny's mouth quirked up in half-sneering grin. "Got it bad for him, do you?" He raised the limp head, brushing tangled curls from Ray's white face. "Can't say I blame you, Bodie. This kitten's the cuddliest I've seen in a month of Sundays. Tell you what -- you can have a go when I've done with him." He held up a warning hand as Bodie began to argue. "Sloppy seconds or nothing, mate. Now get out of my way."

Standing, Johnny drew Ray up and heaved the bruised figure over his shoulder. Bodie fell back, but dropped his knife back into his hand. Johnny seemed to have a sixth sense, for he turned abruptly and pointed his gun directly at Bodie.

"In point of fact, _mate_ , get out of camp. Don't think I fancy you at my back whilst I'm having it off with pretty. You can pick through the leftovers come morning."

Bodie fought his rising fury. He had to protect Ray, had to rescue him somehow, and it would do no good letting his anger goad him into making a mistake. Bodie knew he could have dropped Johnny before the biker could get off more than one shot, but the rest of the gang were watching. How many of them might also be armed? He and Ray could both end up dead if he weren't very careful. He backed further away, and at Johnny's urging mounted his cycle and rode off down the road. Looking back, he saw Johnny disappear with Ray into his tent.

Bodie ditched the bike and doubled back the moment he'd crested the first hill. Circling widely around, he approached Johnny's tent from the back end of the camp. That was his partner Johnny had in there, and Bodie wasn't leaving without him. Though there was more to it than that, he knew. He couldn't even contemplate leaving Ray to these jackals, not his curlyheaded angelfish. A sardonic grimace twisted his lips. Christ, wouldn't Ray just kill him if he ever knew just how much Bodie cared? Yeah, right after he expired laughing. But it was there, the helpless attraction he felt for the cocky little sod, and he'd as soon cut his own throat as abandon Ray to Johnny's untender mercies.

Careful not to let himself be seen by the other bikers in the camp, he slipped along outside the flickering shadows of the campfires, the clouded night sky aiding him in his prowl. Creeping round the back of Johnny's tent, he carefully slit an opening along the seam of its wall and ground covering, the sound of his knife drowned by the blare of heavy metal from a radio inside the tent. He eased himself down flat to the ground, and lifting the back flap a fraction, peered in.

Johnny was kneeling directly across from him, Ray clutched about the ribs under one arm as the other hand knocked boots and loose objects from a pile of sleeping bags. Bodie froze, practically holding his breath as he willed Johnny not to look around.

But the biker was more intent on settling his captive than checking the security of his quarters. Bodie's eyes narrowed as he watched Johnny stuff the gun into the belt of his trousers, then tug the tent's sleeping bags into rough order before depositing Ray upon them. 

Doyle moaned as his bruised ribs were jarred, and struggled for consciousness. He tried to press his hand to the throbbing tenderness of his ribs, but found his wrists were still bound behind his back. An obscenity was his first thought. His second was, _Where the hell is Bodie?_ He'd seen Bodie before he was knocked out, had expected to see him upon awakening. Had they discovered Bodie's true identity as well?

"Wakin' up then, poppet?" Johnny hooked a leg casually over Ray's chest, keeping him down. This elicited another groan, and the gang leader clucked in mock sympathy. "Sounds like you could use a little fortifying before we get on wi' it." He twisted the cap from a bottle of gin, and raising Doyle's head, thrust the rim between the agent's lips. 

"Come on, drink it down!" he ordered when Doyle let the liquid spill out the corners of his mouth to run down his cheeks. "We can do this easy, gin down yer gullet; or hard, with a needle full of goodies up yer vein.   Yeah, thought you'd see the light," he approved as Doyle began swallowing the liquor. "All you coppers're scared silly of needles. Keep drinking."

Bodie watched quietly from his place of concealment. He didn't like the amount of liquor Ray was being forced to down, worried that it would make his partner pass out again. But he held back, for that was secondary to the problem of getting Ray out alive.   His fingers itched to seize the gun from Johnny's belt, but he knew his best chance for success would come when the biker undressed and was forced to lay the weapon aside altogether. _C'mon you bastard, drop your trousers and stow the gun_ , he fretted.

Doyle began to cough at the rawness of the gin he gulped. The remnants of the bottle spilled out as he choked, but Johnny seemed satisfied with the quantity he'd put away, and tossed the empty bottle aside.

"You know what I'm going to do now?" the biker asked almost gently, wiping droplets from his captive's chin with grimy fingertips.

"You want to fuck me," Ray said softly but calmly.

Johnny nodded. "You got that right. Ever been fucked before?"

"No." There was stoic resignation behind the reply.

Bodie's heart wanted to break at the composure Ray displayed. _Hang in there, sunshine,_ he thought at Ray. _Bodie's watching over you._

Johnny clucked. "Beautiful arse like yours, wasted all this time? Glad you came snooping, pretty. Now I can show you what you've been missing."

Johnny laid himself along Ray's body, putting a strain on the bound arms behind his back. The biker's mouth came down on his, hard, demanding. Ray parted his lips, then bit at the flesh which intruded. That won him a howled curse, followed by a numbing slap across his mouth.

"I like your spirit, poppet," the biker spat, "but I won't have you doing me a damage. Might make me angry, and then where would you be?"   He grabbed up a couple of neckerchiefs, stuffing one in Ray's mouth, and tying the other across to keep it in place. Johnny gazed at his handiwork, his anger melting to lust as he admired Ray's helpless form.

_This is it,_ Ray realized. He couldn't get free, couldn't defend himself from what would happen.   He wondered how Bodie would have felt in his place, then felt strangely glad it was him, not his partner, who was in trouble.   It would be easier to live with his own violation than be haunted by the image of Bodie made so helpless and hurt.

That gave him heart somehow, being glad it wasn't Bodie who lay in his place as Johnny pawed and licked him, not Bodie who felt grubby fingers touching him all over, unbuckling his belt and fumbling at the button-down fly of his jeans. 

Ray shuddered as the last of the buttons was freed. He was lifted and the biker's hand slid inside his jeans, pushing them down and fondling his ass.   He clamped his legs together, snarling a denial into the muffling softness of his cloth gag.

"Keep fighting," a husky voice whispered in his ear. "It turns me on. Come on, a cocky lad like you knows how to fight."

He was rolled onto his stomach, a folded parka tucked under his hips to raise them up. He bucked and kicked at the hands pulling his thighs open, ignoring the stinging slaps this earned him. He felt his jeans pulled further down, to his ankles. 

"Christ, you're a hot little spitfire."

Ray redoubled his struggles as he felt a greasy pressure at his backside. He was pinned by a hard hand on his back, carrying much of Johnny's weight behind it, his legs parted by the bulk of knees between them. The biker's other hand rubbed oily fingers along his crease, then thrust two stiff digits into him. He felt them prodding up his passage as he screamed and stiffened in pain.

The biker ignored Ray's smothered shriek, but Bodie heard it like a knife slicing into his heart. He couldn't wait any longer, not even for Johnny to drop the gun.

"Ah, you're tight, pretty." Johnny drew his fingers back as if to ready them for a harder thrust. "Tightest arse I've ever had the pleasure of--" His words cut off abruptly with a choking gasp, and the weight on Ray's body doubled, winding the agent. Then Johnny's fingers were plucked from their containment, and all the weight shifted off Ray, letting him twist away and look up at his deliverance.

Bodie was there, one arm lashed solidly about Johnny's throat, the other wrestling Johnny's hand from the gun in his belt. Ray blinked back threatening tears of relief as he watched them struggle for possession of the weapon. He had no doubt of the outcome, for Bodie wore his demonic face, the driven, ferocious appearance he had when all his power was concentrated on winning his objective.   That objective was saving Ray, and Ray knew it. He was weak with heady joy at the sight of his partner come back for him. _Ah, Bodie, you'd fight your way through Hell to find me, wouldn't you? And fight back out again, to bring me home._ Ray squeezed his eyes shut and tried to stop the sentimental thoughts before he made himself bawl.

Johnny managed to topple Bodie, but went crashing over as well, unable to break the iron hold Bodie had locked round him.   They rolled, fighting for top position, neither quite able to succeed for long. Johnny dragged the gun from his belt at last, but Bodie's tight grip on his wrist shifted, intensified, sending an agonizing pain radiating up his arm.   The gun slid free, released by nerveless fingers. Then almost faster than Ray could follow, Bodie had hooked a leg around Johnny's hip, rolled the biker flat on his back while sliding on top of him, and slugged him into dazed surrender. The biker's skull was tough; it took Bodie three more solid strikes to batter him down into unconsciousness. 

Bodie rocked back on his heels a moment, chest heaving as he gulped air and let his adrenaline spend itself. The ferocity of his expression slowly dissipated, to be replaced with an almost stricken concern as he regarded his trundled partner.

"Ray, I'm sorry, I had to get the gun away first. You hurt bad?" Bodie's hands were on him now, supporting his head, tearing the gag away.

"Bodie, you're beautiful," Ray gasped when the cloth was pulled out. "Get my hands free; I can hardly feel 'em." His lips pursed in a cupid's bow, tongue poking through to moisten them. "Phuff.   Can hardly feel me lips either."

Bodie suppressed an urge to kiss that swollen mouth. He'd just saved Ray from one assault, it would not do to begin another. He concentrated instead on untying the wire looped about Doyle's wrists.

Ray's first act of freedom was to hitch his jeans up. He strapped the belt back into place, but was unable to manage the button-down fly with his numb fingers. The gin was getting to him too, making the task even harder.

"Hurry," Bodie urged, binding and gagging Johnny with the articles which had secured Doyle. He scooped up the gun next, and checked it was fully loaded. Looking back, he saw Ray still struggling. "Here, let me," Bodie said impatiently, reaching for the problem buttons. 

Ray shied back, unwilling to feel anyone's hands, even Bodie's, at his crotch again. "Almost got it, half a tic!"

"Don't be bloody obstinate," Bodie growled, and ignoring Ray's defensive flinch, grabbed hold of the jeans and fastened them up. Ray pulled away quickly when it was done, turning to crawl out the slit Bodie'd made in the back of the tent. Bodie was right on his heels.

They scurried across the end of the clearing and into the cover of a nearby thicket, breathing easier once they'd reached that haven of tangled underbrush.

"Which way?" Ray whispered, clinging to a tree trunk dizzily.

Bodie pointed across the camp.

"We just came that direction!"

"I left my bike down the road, on the other side of that hill. We'll have to go the long way around."

Ray made a small groaning noise, but followed uncomplainingly the stealthy path Bodie wove. When they had moved further out of earshot of the camp, Bodie halted again, unhooking a canteen from his belt.

"Don't think they'll hear you here.   Time to stick your finger down your throat, sunshine."

Doyle blinked at him, uncertain if Bodie were joking. "You want me to make meself sick? All over the gorse and bluebells?"

"Yeah. Got to get that gin out of your stomach, Ray, before you get any drunker.   It's going to be a long ride back to town. Don't want you falling off the bike, do we?"

Ray nodded blearily. He knelt, bracing himself on one arm, and Bodie turned away politely. It took only a minute, and then Ray was spitting and wiping his mouth clean. 

"Good lad." Bodie patted his back and passed him the canteen of water, which Ray accepted gratefully. He rinsed the sour taste away, and nodded readiness to go.

Bodie slung the canteen back on his belt.   "Onward?"

"Onward!"

It took a while to reach the location, Bodie striking out in a much wider arc for the return trip in order to avoid any camp stragglers. He was entirely successful at that; less so at recovering the bike. Ray lifted a sardonic eyebrow as Bodie cast about in bewilderment.

"It was here, Ray, I know I left it here!"

"Maybe the bike fairy's left you a sixpence for it."

Bodie growled and kicked a clump of grass.   "Bloody hell! Thieves! The lot of them!"

Ray sighed, shoving his hands down into his pockets. It was getting cold out, and he was wistfully wishing for his shirt. "Come on," he called, setting off down the dirt lane.

Bodie paced behind him, scanning the roadside angrily for any sign of the errant vehicle. "I worked all week on the engine, Ray. Not to mention the waiver Cowley made me sign. D'you think he'll make me pay for it?"

"I could tell him it was sacrificed for the greater good of CI5," Ray offered consolingly. "He might not even ask why you didn't think to hide it when you ditched it."

"Ray..."

"I mean, leaving it right by the same drag these bikers travel, well, not one of your more brilliant days, was it?"

"Speaking of brilliance," Bodie interjected nastily, "I'm all agog to hear the litany of seconds you managed to keep your cover. What, ten, twenty? A whole minute maybe, before they sussed you?"

They insulted each other spiritedly for the next several minutes, Ray seeking distraction from the cold, Bodie from his heart-thudding apprehension over making good their escape.

They'd walked perhaps a mile along the dirt road when they heard the drone of motorcycles approaching. Bodie's eyes flicked over the surrounding countryside. They'd left the forest behind, and aside from a shallow ditch beside the road there was no good cover to be had.

"They're heading to the camp, not from it," Ray observed, knowing Bodie's thoughts.

"Brazen it out, shall we?"

"Unless you want to try hijacking their bikes. We do have the gun."

"There's that," Bodie agreed, loosening the weapon in his belt, but keeping it covered by his jacket. "Save it for a last resort though, I think."

The engine sounds were close now, male voices and laughter also carrying to them. Bodie pulled Ray around, and started walking back toward camp. Questions might be asked of two men heading to town at this late hour, one half naked and both on foot, but two men stumbling back to camp, perhaps on the last legs of a day-long drunk, were less conspicuous. Ray caught Bodie's intention, stumbling alongside him in inebriated gate. It wasn't a great stretch for him at this point.

The bikers were upon them seconds later.   It was a largish group, a good dozen or more, in apparent high spirits. They swirled around Bodie and his companion, skidding to dust-churning halts and calling good-natured greeting. Bodie fit in easily wherever he went, Ray thought enviously.

"Hey Bodie! Where's your bike, eh?"

"Flat tire," Bodie shrugged, a self-deprecating grin on his lips, but cold wariness in his eyes.

The riders chortled at his answer. "You berk, don't you keep a patch kit?   Shoemaker's kid always goes bare, eh?" They amused themselves with such witticisms as Bodie nodded in sheepish resignation, fretting impatiently inside for them to go.

But they'd noticed Doyle now, and their curiosity over the handsome stranger kept them lingering.

"Friend of yourn?" One great shaggy-headed rider asked, fixing Doyle with hungry eyes.

"Yeah." Bodie didn't try to embellish. Ray kept silent altogether, the hairs at the back of his neck prickling with uneasy premonition.

Shaggy nodded, still gazing intently. He made Ray feel entirely naked. "Ain't he cold, runnin' round wi'out hardly no clothes on?"

"Yeah, probably," Bodie said in a none-of-your-bloody-business voice. A few of the riders snickered, imagining lewd reasons for the absence of Ray's shirt.

Shaggy was not easily put off. He grinned broadly, displaying yellowed and broken teeth, and unzipped his leather jacket. Holding the jacket broadly open, he beckoned to Ray. "Come here baby, I'll keep you warm."

Ray's face flushed over as the riders howled with laughter. It was not a blush, Bodie knew, but the darkening of anger. He put a hand on Ray's elbow and shook his head slightly. Ray could take on any one of the riders, maybe several at once, but not all of them.

Shaggy guffawed along with his friends, encouraged by their laughter. More teasing than serious, he unzipped his trousers next, and pantomimed taking Ray in his arms and impaling him on his cock. "Yeah baby, I'll warm you right through! Come on sit yerself down! I'll take you for a _ride!_ " The others hooted their approval of his booming entreaty.

It was getting out of hand. One of them might try to touch Ray, and Bodie knew his partner was ready to explode. He took off his own jacket, swinging it around Ray's shoulders in proprietary fashion, and said coldly, "I'll keep him warm enough." There was a dangerous edge to his voice, a clear warning that he had staked out this property for himself, and others would trespass at their peril.

Taking off his jacket served another purpose, too. It revealed the handle of the gun tucked in his belt, which Bodie hoped would serve as silent reinforcement to his warning. The riders quieted, and he thought they'd taken his point. Then one of the older men spoke.

"That's Johnny's gun."

Bodie was caught flatfooted. He hadn't expected them to recognize the weapon. Ray's eyes met his, looking for agreement to start fighting. He withheld it.

Bodie was sweating now, but he forced his hand to stay steady as he drew the gun from his belt. "That's right," he said with careful casualness, flaunting the weapon. "Beautiful workmanship, this. Chrome plating, mahogany grip... got six shiny new bullets in it, too."

There was prolonged silence, stretched tautly and laced with the smell of fear and a rising current of ugly anger. It snapped.

One of the younger bikers, displaying more inebriated good luck than sense or skill, leapt at Bodie from behind, and managed to knock him to the ground. As one, the rest of the riders jumped them. Bodie managed to fire off three shots before the gun was wrested from his grip.   His aim had been ruined and none of the shots caused any great damage; one creasing the ass of an attacker, the second puncturing a bike's fuel tank, and the last punching a ragged hole through one man's calf. _Hope the bastard's crippled for life_ , he thought viciously, and fought on, refusing to surrender to the tide of unwashed humanity swarming over him.

It was Ray who stopped him at last; Ray's voice cutting through the snarls and curses, telling him to pack it in before they killed him. He didn't want to, didn't mind going down in good fight, but hearing Ray's voice reminded him that there was not only himself to consider. Grudgingly, he ceased his struggles and spat out a surrender. To his surprise, they stopped hitting him almost at once, seeming more excited at the prospect of taking him back to Johnny for his reckoning. 

He was hauled to his feet and roped between two bikes, forced to run alongside as they revved down the road, or be dragged. Ray received marginally better treatment, perched in front of one of the riders, a knife at his throat to ensure his good behavior. It was not Shaggy, Bodie noted. The big fellow seemed to be nursing a groin injury, and Bodie guessed that during the fight Ray had made that his first priority.

They attracted some interest from the rest of the camp when they arrived, but what first really caught everyone's attention was when Johnny was pulled from his tent, bound, gagged, and still passed out. That unique sight brought the entire camp crowding around to gawk. Two of Johnny's mates cut him loose, then dumped a bucket of cold water on their leader to revive him.

It did the trick. Johnny came up swearing and sputtering. The bikers dragged Bodie and Ray before him, and excitedly related the capture. They concluded by ceremoniously presenting Johnny his gun, with three new bullets to replace the three fired.

_We're dead_ , Bodie thought dully as he stood with the sullen, stoic expression he used for Cowley's lectures. _We're dead, we're dead, we're dead, we just haven't been killed yet._ The words sang in his mind like a tuneless song. He wondered remotely if they would be tortured first, if Johnny's renowned sadism would invent creative ways for them to suffer before they snuffed it. He didn't allow himself any feelings over it.   Couldn't, or he'd start thinking about what they would do to Ray, and it would tear him up worse than any physical hurt they could inflict.

Johnny listened carefully to the tale the others told, accepting his gun perfunctorily when it was returned. He turned to Bodie, studying him with new regard in his hard-eyed gaze.

"Get the ropes off," Johnny barked at Bodie's captors. They seemed surprised, but hastened to comply. Bodie did not move when he was released, except to rub a chaffed wrist.

"So Bodie, what've you got to say for yerself?" Johnny asked.

Bodie met his steely glare unblinkingly.   "Nothing."

Johnny's lips twitched in little grin. "What, no excuses? No explanations?"

"No."

"You did it for him, didn't you?"   Johnny jerked a thumb in Ray's direction without tearing his eyes from Bodie's face. Bodie shrugged.

"Didja want the little bugger that bad?" 

Bodie made no response. 

"Would you do it all again if you could?" Johnny persisted.

"Yeah, I would."

Johnny nodded, looking satisfied, and began to laugh. It was a warm, rich, welcoming laugh. "I'll know not to take your toys next time," he chuckled. "You bastard, you half brained me. Didn't think you had it in you, Bodie." He clapped Bodie's shoulder hard, knocking the agent back a step. Whooping with laughter now, Johnny turned to his gang of bikers and shouted, "We got a right real fighter here, lads! He's the first man to put me away in eight years of scrapping!"

The other bikers began laughing along, a little uneasily, uncertain if Johnny were really pleased by this or not. Bodie and Ray both watched with dazed disbelief as Johnny loudly related his defeat to the gang, gleefully detailing Bodie's ferocious assault.

"Like a devil up from hell, he was," Johnny exclaimed with relish. "Wasn't gonna let nothing stop 'im. Trev, how many of you did it take t' bring 'im back?"

"Most all twelve of us, I reckon," admitted one of Bodie's erstwhile captors. Johnny crowed with delight and slapped Bodie's shoulder again in congratulatory fellowship.

Bodie's eyes widened as understanding dawned.   _He can't imagine anyone helping out a cop. He thinks I wanted to steal Ray for my own use, and that's just what he would have done in my place. No wonder he admires me, the sick bastard._

Doyle did not comprehend as clearly as Bodie, but could see that their fate was not what he'd expected. He stood there, slack-jawed with astonishment, as the other bikers crowded round Bodie to add their good wishes. It seemed Bodie had broken the barriers and been accepted as a full-fledged member of the gang. Not just any new member either, but Johnny's fairhaired favorite. _The luck of that idiot_ , Ray marvelled, forgetting to worry about his own unresolved status.

Johnny wiped tears of merriment from his eyes, and shooed the other bikers back. Taking Bodie's arm, he led him to a place of honor by the main fire.

"Now let's you an' me get things straight for the future, see? I like a man who stands up for what he wants, a man who's tough enough to take me on. But we can't have no more knocking the leader about; it's not respectful, Bodie."

"Yeah, okay," Bodie murmured, lightheaded with relief.

"You tell me when there's something...or someone...you want that bad. I'll know to listen next time."

Bodie nodded again.

"Good. Now let's see you finish what you started." Johnny snapped his fingers at a pair of toughs lounging nearby. "Get the copper over here. Get a blanket and some rope and some lube, too."

Bodie's heart froze. Johnny bestowed an angelic smile upon him. "Bet you've been lookin' forward to this part."

"No," Bodie breathed harshly.   "Nobody touches him."

"Oh, he's all yours, mate. You won him, spoils of combat. Nobody's going to take him away from you now.   But we got rights, too. We got the right to see what you're going to do to him." Johnny's voice rose, calling to the camp in general. "And I think most of the lads here are looking forward to watching you work, seein' you put your mark on the thing you took." His voice dropped low again, dripping with lascivious anticipation. "I know I am."

The other bikers seemed equally enthusiastic.   Settling into good viewing positions, they cheered Bodie and called rude encouragements as a blanket was laid before him. It took four of the riders to drag a visibly shaken Ray over and throw him down upon it. Bodie's thoughts churned wildly, seizing on and discarding plan after plan for escape.

Doyle was numb, unable to believe what was about to happen. In some other place, some secluded and cozy and _private_ place, he might have enjoyed trying a fling with Bodie. But not here, not rendered helpless and forced to cooperate, in front of leering drink-sodden toughs. 

He resisted automatically as his handlers tore his remaining clothes off, but they had little trouble stripping him down.   They drove tent stakes through the corners of the blanket then, and made loops of rope for his wrists and ankles to fasten them to the stakes.

Bodie looked down at Ray's naked figure being spreadeagled for his pleasure. The men toyed with him as they fastened him face down, fondling him and laughing at his attempts to evade their wandering fingers. They wanted him, Bodie knew. He'd seen many a bloke look at Ray with bedroom eyes, the gorgeous ass alone making strong men sigh. He'd often felt a jealous twinge that his partner had such beauty, such artless sensuality, drawing fascinated glances wherever he passed.

But it was not the lovely body Bodie saw looking at Ray now. This was his partner, his precious, they lashed into place; his curlyhaired angelfish they hungrily licked their lips over. Bodie looked out at the sea of expectant, cruel faces around him. Their desire, their wills beat down at him, suffocating him with their demand. They all wanted to have Ray, wanted to possess that wild beauty and crush it.   They were willing to let Bodie serve as their proxy, but they would not be satisfied until they saw him act out their fevered fantasies.

A terrible calm settled on Bodie. He now understood what was at stake and why.   The jackals had scented blood, were gathered to sniff and howl, but they could be kept at bay so long as Bodie performed their desires for them. He had to claim Ray's body to protect it from their predations.

"Clear off," he ordered the men who'd secured Doyle and lingered to stroke his shock-paled skin. They moved away in automatic obedience to the authoritative tone of his voice.

Bodie knelt heavily, running his hand through Doyle's sweat-limp curls. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over Ray's ear in a soft kiss. "Got to do it, sunshine," he murmured, too low to be overheard by their observers. "I'm sorry, Ray..." his voice caught as he choked unexpectedly on the words, then he rushed on, "I'll try not hurt you, Christ, I didn't want it like this..."

Ray's eyes were squeezed shut. His stomach tightened with dread as Bodie's lips whispered in his ear. He breathed "Bodie, no..." It tore at the larger man's gut.

Bodie straightened, resolutely ignoring the soft appeal. Ray was still, huddled in the confines of his bonds, trembling a little from shock or cold, mutely begging Bodie not to go through with it. It made Bodie ache to cut him loose, cover him and hold him and reassure him, let him know how much his Bodie loved him.

"Hey, Bodie, gonna take all night?"   A catcall from one of the riders cut through his welter of sentiment. 

Bodie gritted his teeth and shoved the thoughts away. He had to become an automaton if this were to succeed, had to think in flatly practical terms and ignore the sick aching inside. He began slowly undressing, making a show of it for the bikers, buying time to transform himself into the devil they wanted to see.

He stripped completely, borrowing a page from Ray's book of exhibitionism. Ironic that Ray, who always loved to flaunt his sexy features, should now be miserable at his forced exposure for public viewing; while Bodie, guarded and reticent to the point of priggishness over nudity, now displayed his powerful build with all the apparent unconcern of male centerfold.

He had them transfixed as he smoothed a hand down his lax cock, slowly stroking it to arousal. He turned gradually as he fondled himself, letting them all have a good look from every angle. A few heavy sighs and muttered comments reached him, lust and envy swelling palpably in the air around him. Ray was watching him too, his wide eyes looking more scared at the transformation of his partner than his treatment from the bikers.

Doyle _was_ scared. Cold determination emanated from Bodie in waves, chilling Ray to the marrow. He knew that set face, those compressed lips and hard eyes. Bodie was focusing all the power of his will, channelling it into action.   That will, put in motion, was unstoppable. Ray had seen it focussed on thieves, smugglers, terrorists, and killers; on Johnny only just this afternoon. All had been vanquished by its force. With sick apprehension, Ray saw it was his turn now. The full fury of Bodie's determination was aimed at him.

Bodie read the horror in Ray's eyes.  He deliberately strangled the surge of compassion it stirred, feeding off Ray's terror instead. 

"Ah, the copper's seen the future," Bodie gloated in imitation of Johnny's way of speaking, "and it's got my cock written all over it, hasn't it, sweetheart?"

"Bodie, please..." Ray stammered.   He got no further.

"Bodie, please, Bodie, please," the bikers parroted, twisting his appeal into a cry of desire. "Can't wait for it, eh?" they jeered. "Come on Bodie, do him!" There were other shouts too, vulgar suggestions of the many ways for Bodie to humiliate and degrade his captive.

The comments grew more violent and sadistic in tone, urging Bodie to brutal acts of overt torture. They wanted to watch him hurt Ray badly, repeatedly.   Bodie dismissed the cruel encouragements out of hand, but knew he would have to give the bikers a compelling show to keep them from attempting the deeds themselves.

Ignoring the hooting and whistles he knelt before Ray, thighs splayed open, allowing his still lax organ to hang between them. He was fairly certain Ray would not enjoy this next part, but it would not harm him physically, and would serve for the moment to shut up their observers. No softness now, he warned himself. He had to ensure Ray's compliance, whether his partner liked it or not.

"I won't have snivelling," Bodie announced coldly. "You've got better things to do with that mouth."

There were several delighted cheers from the bikers at this and he paused a moment for the noise to die down, fingering his cock idly as Ray's eyes fixed on the heavy organ. 

"Time to open wide, sunshine. And mind this; one bite, one nip even, and I'll tear your balls off. Stuff them down your throat." 

With that, he slid in close and pulled Ray's chest onto his thighs. His hard eyes met Ray's stricken gaze. Then Bodie deliberately forced the curly head down to his crotch, hissing inward with pleasure as moist lips were pressed against his member.

A little blossom of idealistic hope, bravely nurtured through all the toils and troubles of his friendship with Bodie, now withered and died inside Doyle's heart. Bodie had chosen his course of action alone, was going to impose his decision on Ray. Bodie would keep the pretense going, even though it meant using Ray like a whore for the camp's amusement. 

Numbed by bleak acceptance of his lot, Ray acceded to Bodie's will. He parted his lips and let Bodie feed his warm flesh through them.

A salty musky flavor assailed Ray's senses as the unfamiliar bulky shape of the penis filled his mouth. It was the first time he'd actually tasted a man's organ, though he'd long been curious, wishing for the flexibility to reach his own. Now he took in scattered impressions of the act as part of his mind operated with detachment, observing the oral copulation stoically, and smothering the part of him that railed furiously at his abuse.

Bodie's cock was as large and smooth and solid as the rest of his body. Its velvet firmness weighed on Doyle's tongue, rounding his lips with its rapid growth. A few drops of pre-cum oozed from its tip, signalling Bodie's arousal, and making Doyle swallow the bland trickle reflexively. 

It felt good to Bodie. He sternly fended off the guilt this inspired, concentrating on the pleasurable suction from Doyle swallowing. Keeping himself in arousal was his priority for now; plenty of time later to deal with the guilt if they ever got out of this mess.

Bodie thrust forward gently, lacing his fingers together behind Ray's head to keep it steady. Doyle tried to pull back, but Bodie's hands were stronger. They drew his head further down, forcing it closer as he stiffened in resistance. Reluctance evident in his every motion, Doyle began fellating Bodie.

Bodie's hands relaxed, tousling his hair in approval. Then Ray felt another hand squeeze his rump, molding the firm mound of muscle and startling him into jerking away from Bodie in an attempt to escape the bold caress. He caught a glimpse of a young tough all in black denim, then Bodie's hands had captured his head and pressed it down again while Bodie snarled a warning, "Keep yer bloody mits off him, he's mine!" at the trespasser. The hand left his rump, and Ray heard quickly retreating footsteps.

Bodie's reaction gave Ray a queer feeling of reassurance and he choked on a sobbing laugh at the incongruity of it; that in the midst of this horror, he would still grasp for any display of Bodie's protectiveness, however grotesque. Giddy with suppressed hysteria, he let Bodie's hands guide his mouth once more. Up and down the stiffened shaft his tongue played, then the crown pressed at his lips and he opened his mouth for its insertion.

Bodie stifled another pleasured hiss as the soft wet orifice swallowed him up. He was fully hard now, struggling no longer to keep his arousal but rather to slow his rush to climax. Doyle had done his part well, however reluctantly, and Bodie was ready for the main performance.

The bikers were ready too, more than ready.   They had crowded close, generating heat from their close-packed, stimulated bodies. The one youth he'd warned off was edging closer, eager to drink in the action before him but not quite brave enough to cross Bodie again.

Bodie pulled his staff back from Doyle's mouth, caressing himself confidently as he displayed its well-expanded dimensions. A few admiring whistles came of that, as did ribald conjectures on the captive's ability to take that heavy truncheon up his shapely little arse.

"Give me enough lube; I'll get it up him all right," Bodie scoffed. He poured into his cupped palm a generous measure of oil from the bottle they passed him, and slapped his hand hard on Doyle's buttocks. That garnering a stifled cry of surprise from the recipient and laughter from the eager group watching. Bodie ignored all, drizzling more oil on the flushed arse beneath his hand. He wanted to slather the stuff over every inch of Doyle's skin, coat him inside and out with the liquid, and pray it would protect that tender passage from his assault.

Bodie parted the greasy buttocks, staring at the tiny aperture he had to enter. It convulsed slightly at exposure to the chill air, its reflexive tightening a reminder of how strong those muscles were. Smoothing more oil over the clenched bud, Bodie tried to ease a finger inside. Ray's body stiffened and his anal muscles tensed, locking out the probe. Bodie pressed harder, then pulled back when it became apparent he wouldn't get in without badly bruising the orifice.

_Don't let him stop you,_ Bodie told himself grimly. _He knows he can't fight you off, so he's trying to play on your sympathies. Letting you know you can't screw him without hurting him. Don't let him take control, he's got no way out if he does._

Bodie wiped his hand on the already filthy blanket. "Oh dear, innit a shame," he called to the other bikers. "He's not open for business today." Retrieving his folding knife from castoff clothing, Bodie snapped it open with a click that made Doyle flinch, and slid the blunt-edged side of the blade along the cleft of his partner's bottom. "Looks like I'll just have to jimmy me way in first."

He tipped the point down, pressing lightly into the cleft, then paused. The anal opening was clenched as tightly as ever. Ray was going to fight it. _Then you lose, mate,_ Bodie swore silently. Moving the knife to Doyle's throat, he announced, "Last warning, darling. Relax yer bumhole or I'll rip it open."

Doyle gave no indication of hearing him.   Bodie dipped the middle finger of his free hand in oil, and pressed it to the bunched muscle. There was no give. His lips tightened with resolve, Bodie punched his hand forward, driving his finger through the resistant barrier. 

There was a howl of pain from Ray, chilling Bodie even though he knew the thick oil would prevent any tearing. Doyle clenched down on his second knuckle as if it were a lamppost reaming through the tight sphincter. Bodie doggedly worked his finger further up inside Ray, spreading lube as deeply as he could reach. Laying aside his knife, he worked a second finger in past the straining muscles. He commented crudely on the tightness inside, entertaining the watchers while methodically prepping Doyle, massaging the oil in thoroughly.

The anal ring never relaxed, but neither did it continue its convulsive grip. Aware of increasing restlessness in his audience, Bodie pulled his fingers free and stroked still more oil over his erection. Despite being ignored the last few minutes, the organ was flushed and full, kept on simmer by the nearness of Doyle's lovesome body.

Casting aside any remnants of tender feeling, Bodie positioned himself over Doyle, slapping his bum again and barking at him to relax it. He was trying to get through to the rational part of Ray's mind, telling him this was no game, that he would indeed be hurt if he didn't pull himself together and cooperate.

Ray shuddered convulsively as Bodie began the insertion. He would relax for a fraction of a second, then squeeze shut as if cramped in pain. The spasms hurt them both, and Bodie slowed his penetration, fighting down a surge of fury at Doyle's stubborn resistance.   He gripped Ray's cheeks tightly, pulling them higher, bending Ray to a better angle for penetration. But Ray was fighting him now, thrashing in his bonds and biting off strangled cries of protest.

A new round of shouted encouragement swelled from the campers. They urged Bodie to rip through the cop's body, to tear his arsehole to ribbons. And Bodie was fast running out of other options. He realized Ray was too enraged to be reached by threat, and too frightened to be coaxed.   Bodie's eyes fixed on the tossing head of curls, wondering helplessly how to get through to him.

And then Bodie saw the fluttering pulse in Ray's neck, beating nearly twice its normal rate from the raw release of adrenaline, and Bodie saw a way out. With one simple maneuver he could end Doyle's resistance, relax the clenched muscles, and spare his frightened partner the pain of impalement.

Ray wanted to tell Bodie that he was trying to cooperate, he truly was. But his thoughts seemed segregated from his body, which was gripped by a frenzied instinct to repulse Bodie's assault. Ray realized dimly that the disjointed feelings stemmed from shock, but knowing the shock existed did nothing to regain him control. Nor did awareness help when he felt Bodie's hands slide up his neck and he realized what the ex-mercenary was about to do to him. He struggled with the same panicked instinct, while Bodie gently but efficiently positioned the broad pads of his thumbs over the thundering pulse in Doyle's neck, and applied a controlled, steady pressure.

Doyle felt his destruction in that grip.   In seconds, Bodie would be able to do anything to him, and he'd never know what really happened. He wondered dully if Bodie would tear him, and if Johnny and the others would have a go at him while he was out. He fainted in a darkness filled with bitter resentment.

Bodie patiently rode out Doyle's struggles, keeping up the pressure on his carotid arteries until his partner's breath faltered and sighed to a whisper, and the racing, thready pulse throbbed slow and heavy. Bodie relaxed his hold then, and eased the heavy head to the blanket. 

" 'E's strangled 'im..." someone whispered loudly. Others took up bets. _What a nasty little lot_ , Bodie grimaced. And he'd found his niche with them, hadn't he? No strangler, he; just a heartless bastard who'd knocked out his closest friend, all the better to screw him now, my dear.

Yeah, and well past time to do it. Bodie positioned the lax body a little more accessibly and drove his cock into Ray's unresisting ass. Cheers and shouts accompanied his movements as he coldly, mechanically, copulated the still body. It made him feel a bit sick to look down at the bruised figure lying so quietly beneath him, so Bodie shut his eyes and quickened his pace, hoping to end the performance soon.

A new round of hoots and catcalls from the bikers alerted Bodie that something had occurred which met with their approval, but it took a moment to discover the cause. Then the feel of dampness on his skin made Bodie look down again. He saw red smeared over his chest, matting his chest hair into dark twists. Bodie blinked, thrown by the unexpected sight until he realized the blood came from welts on Doyle's back. His vigorous movements had rubbed at the already injured tissue until it bled.

The shock of the blood, its startling redness against skin so pale, nearly finished Bodie. His thrusts faltered as his protective instincts leapt to the fore. He wanted to lie close on Doyle, hold him secure, but he levered himself up on stiff arms instead, locking his elbows to brace his weight above Doyle and spare his partner's battered ribs. _Like a proper Victorian gentleman,_ he thought, flashing on images of fussy, stuffy bedrooms and polite couples in missionary positions. Gingerly he began thrusting once more, careful to keep his chest from striking Doyle's skin as he began the slow climb of arousal again.

Ray came blearily back to consciousness.   He felt the motion of Bodie inside him before he was aware of anything else; a rhythmic penetration reaching deep inside then sliding away again. It was slow and steady and almost soothing in the distraction it offered from his multitude of aches and pains. Ray held very still, keeping his eyes shut and trying not to come all the way awake yet. He didn't want to deal with what was happening, didn't want to think about how helpless he was to stop it.

He heard Bodie's breathing change, the steady rhythm punctuated by a soft grunt at the end of each thrust. The grunts lengthened into low groans, and bitterness came pouring back into Ray's thoughts. Bodie was playing his part far too well to be just pretending. The bastard was enjoying this.

Bodie was not aware that Ray had awakened, for the body beneath him was just as still, the anus snug but dilated, no resistance apparent anywhere. He kept his anxiety for Doyle at bay, rationalizing that his partner would not be seriously harmed so long as he was treated carefully. It took all of Bodie's self-control though, for even in the awkward push-ups position he employed, Bodie was affected by the tight slickness of Doyle's ass, as sweet and exciting as he'd always imagined. He fought the urge to pump harder, forcing himself to keep to the slow even strokes that would not further strain Doyle's injured body. Shifting his weight to one arm, he reached down with the other hand and lightly stroked Doyle's tautly stretched anal opening, checking that there was no tearing, no blood, from that quarter.

His touch brought a shiver from the body beneath him, alerting him that that his partner was awake once more. Bodie was relieved that there had been no renewal of the struggle. He smoothed more lubricant into the crease of Doyle's ass, letting his shaft pump the oil on in.   It was all the comfort he could offer for the time being. He was reassured to see the shivering stop.

It was not really Bodie's actions which stopped Doyle shivering, though he felt the further application of oil, and damned Bodie for his faultless efficiency. But the shock and fear had ended while he was unconscious, and Doyle was in control of himself once more. In control, and miserable. The misery gave way to anger though, as Bodie's thrusts beat on and on. Why the hell didn't Bodie hurry and finish it? Was he having too much fun to want to end things too soon?

It was getting harder for Doyle to lie still.   He gritted his teeth, longing to leap up and smash all the bastards watching this. But he couldn't move without his bonds jerking him up short, and he wouldn't give the bastards the entertainment of seeing him struggle any further.   And still Bodie was churning his arse in bloody slow motion until Doyle wanted to bloody scream for him to just get it over with for bloody Chrissakes!

Doyle swore to himself, furiously but silently, convinced that no one else could be so calm, nor play at rape so convincingly. But that was Bodie all over, wasn't it? No matter how distasteful the job, Bodie always saw it done. And this was just another job, wasn't it, just another operation to be salvaged at any cost. Too fucking bad for Doyle, if he expected Bodie to let feelings get in the way of work. Yeah, too fucking bad he'd ever hoped Bodie had feelings for him at all.

Ray was keeping still, keeping silent, but his thoughts must have reflected on his face for he sensed a special scrutiny upon him, and glanced up to lock eyes with Johnny. The gang leader was gazing at him with undisguised longing, smirking at the thunderous expression on Doyle's face.

"You're an angry little kitten now, aren't you?" he mocked, kneeling down on the blanket before Doyle's face.

"Leave off..." came Bodie's warning growl from behind.

"I won't touch," Johnny murmured, licking at his lower lip. "Just want to have a good look. Nothing wrong with looking, eh?"

Bodie grunted. Doyle squeezed his eyes shut as Bodie's pace began to quicken at last. _About sodding time! Finish it!_

A zip scraping open made Doyle look up again.   Johnny had opened his jeans and was delving inside, fishing himself out.

"What d'you think of that, then?" Johnny smirked, brandishing a heavy organ which was jerking and twitching erect.   He stroked himself, pumping the organ to swollen fullness. "Could have had this beauty tucked up you. Would have made you see stars, this."

Ray's lips tightened, but he remained silent.   There was nothing to say.

Johnny's actions stirred the crowd to further excitement.  >From the corner his eye, Doyle could see other trousers opening. For a moment he felt panic rising again; the threat of gang rape seemed tangible. But Johnny merely stroked himself, and the others followed suit.

Bodie's thrusts came harder now, faster, making Doyle grimace. Johnny sidled closer still, fixated on Doyle's discomfort, eagerly examining his features for glimpses of anguish. His fist jerked at his bloated organ all the while, until with a shriek of excitement he orgasmed, directing the streams of ejaculate all over Doyle's face.   The other bikers went mad, howling their approval and stomping in rhythm to urge Bodie's climax as well.

Bodie could feel the revulsion which wracked Doyle's thin frame. He shared his partner's disgust as flecks of semen dripped off Doyle's hair, onto Bodie's arms.   Doyle was trying to wipe his face on the blanket, but the filthy cloth served mainly to smear the mess more thoroughly across his features.

The other bikers had not subsided in their cheering, making a din to raise the dead. They were chanting for Bodie to cum, creating a pounding rhythm which seemed to sweep Bodie along to faster and faster thrusts until he could feel stirrings in his loins which signalled the onset of completion.

Ray was making sounds too, strangled little gasps of pain which were drowned by the cacophony around him. Bodie could feel them though, transmitted by the taut muscles surrounding his flesh. He'd gotten too rough, he was hurting Ray. It had to stop now.

He followed Johnny's example, pulling himself free of Ray's body and rocking back on his heels, both hands wrapped around his straining cock. Pumping it furiously in time to the background chants, he sent himself over the edge and erupted in long series of pulses. Like Johnny, he aimed the semen on Doyle's body, spattering his seed across the bruised back and buttocks until they glistened with lacy trails of the fluid.

The chanting broke up into cheers. Bodie glanced around to see many of the campers jerking off as well. He cupped a soothing hand over one of Doyle's reddened cheeks, realized he was still the center of attention, and disguised the comforting pat as a crude grope.   Doyle's face tucked down in the blanket, shutting them all out.

"Someone fetch me a flannel," Bodie drawled, shaking his softening cock with one hand to flick away the oil and semen coating it.

"Make him lick it off!" Johnny exulted, moving forward as if to demonstrate how to put Doyle's mouth to work, then thinking better of the move at Bodie's possessive glare.

The idea met with enthusiasm from the others though. At their encouragement, Bodie moved around in front of Doyle and lifted his face from the blanket. Again their eyes met, but this time Doyle's were bright with fury, and Bodie's dark and unreadable. Bodie stroked his softened cock, wiping away much of the fluids, then thumbed Doyle's lower lip and said, "Do it."

The cupid lips parted and Bodie eased his cock in. He felt the warm tongue caressing him, a swallow, another sweeping lick, and then the soft lips were wiping even Doyle's saliva away as Bodie pulled himself out again. It felt so damn sweet that Bodie groaned despite himself. He took a deep breath to dispel the returning arousal, then with calculated indifference he tousled Ray's curls, as if patting a clever dog.

"What a good little cocksucker you are," he praised, winning raucous laughter from the bikers. "And an even better pussyboy."   He smacked Doyle's arse loudly, punctuating the crude compliment to the roaring approval of the crowd. Bodie allowed himself a tinge of relief.   He'd catered to them, entertained them, and sated them. The biker crowd was still unpredictable, but for the moment they were happy. Now was the time to escape.

Bodie snagged his pants from the edge of the blanket, and pulling them on called out, "I got some private business to finish now. Me 'n my bunkie here are going for a little ride in the woods. Don't wait up to see him pass this way again."

Several of the bikers snickered, one yelling out for Bodie to carve the little arse a second arsehole.

"Yeah, well," Bodie continued loudly, shrugging into his shirt, "I'll be needin' me bike now to be on me way. Funny thing is, it's gone missing lately." He snagged his shoes and jammed one foot then the other in them, sockless.   Straightening, he turned to fix a confident look on the group. "And I would suggest who-so-ever saw it last bring it back right sharp, or else look forward to a bit o' the same as our little petal here."   Bodie snapped out his knife and ripped through the rope staking out Doyle's ankles and wrists. By the time he'd dragged his partner upright and yanked the blanket free to throw over him, his bike had reappeared.

A stammering pair of young toughs assured him they'd just been looking after it for him. They slunk away as Bodie examined the motorcycle carefully to make sure it was all right. Sidelong glances appraised him of Doyle's shaky condition too, and he wished he could check out his partner as thoroughly. Ray had wrapped himself in the meager shelter of the blanket Bodie'd thrown over him, and looked for all the world like a orphaned refugee.

Bodie reached out a long arm and swept him up. He kept still, unresisting, as Bodie bundled him onto the bike and lashed his hands to the handlebars. The blanket slipped open as this was done and Ray could not reach down to cover himself, and Bodie did not.

Johnny groaned at the sight of Doyle's well-formed genitals peeking out from beneath the blanket edge. "Sheer waste, gettin' rid o' such a pretty toy, and he's hardly been used!" the gang leader mourned.

"He'll be all used up by the time I've done with him," Bodie promised leeringly. He cupped his hand over his groin suggestively, then swung his leg over the bike and settled close behind Doyle. Flexing his hips into Doyle's backside a few times in a final display of licentiousness, he kicked the motor on and molded himself over Doyle's back to reach the handlebars.

"Stick it back up him, give him ride!" came an encouraging cry.

"Ride the bumps!" came another.   

Bodie laughed nastily, and gunned the engine, roaring out of camp to the raucous laughter of the gang.

In seconds they were clear of the camp, and Bodie pulled the blanket closer around Doyle, tucking it well in to keep it anchored against the wind. Ray shifted to allow himself to be covered, but showed no other sign of gratitude.   Bodie rubbed a comforting hand on Doyle's shoulder. His touch was rebuffed by a hard shrug, and Bodie didn't press matters. He had only to look at the huddled figure before him, feel the stiff posture Ray maintained, to know how hurt and humiliated his partner was feeling. Guilt and shame filled Bodie now that the immediate danger was past, though he knew he'd still do it all again to save his partner.

When they'd ridden about a mile from the encampment, Doyle spoke at last. 

"Get these bloody ropes off me."   His voice was low, almost a growl.

"We're not very far yet. Just sit tight another few miles," Bodie advised, covering one of Doyle's clenched fists with his own hand.

"Get 'em off!" Doyle bellowed.   "Now! Do it!" Such was the fury in his tone that Bodie hastened to appease him.

Stopping the bike and dismounting, Bodie untied his hands. Doyle glowered back at him, rubbing his chaffed wrists. When Bodie started to mount the bike again, Doyle pushed him back.

"I don't think I fancy your cock rubbing up behind me all the way to Maidstone," Doyle said gratingly, scooting to the back edge of the seat.

They stared at each other a minute, Bodie struggling to remain cool under the provocation, Doyle angry and unforgiving.   Bodie's control won out, and he mounted in front of Doyle without comment. He could feel Doyle lean back away from him, clutching the back of the seat for support as if any contact with Bodie revolted him.

Bodie gunned the engine, slamming the bike into gear and hurtling them forward with a jolt that nearly threw Doyle off the end. He grabbed at Bodie for an anchor, then let go as if his hands had been burned. He worked to maintain his balance without touching Bodie at all, but bruised and exhausted he found it hard going. The bike skidded on a muddy patch of ground and Doyle was forced to catch hold of Bodie again for support.

"For Chrissakes..." Bodie complained as Doyle's movements threatened to overbalance the bike. He slammed to a stop and whirled off the seat. "Right. I'm not going to fish you out of some ditch. Get up front, where I can hang on to you."

Doyle was unwilling, but lacked the strength to put up any further argument as Bodie mounted behind him and pushed him bodily forward. Bodie's arms slid under his, supporting him even as Bodie steered the bike. Ray wanted to sag into the heat and solidity of the man close-pressed behind him, but even as the impulse struck he could feel the warmth puff of Bodie's breath near his ear and the memory tied to that sensation made him shudder. Bodie's crotch was jammed up against him too, just as he'd tried to avoid. The pad of Bodie's thighs helped cushion Ray's sore arse from the bumps in the road, but kept him tensely alert for the first hint that Bodie was being stimulated by the contact.

Bodie read it all, without Ray speaking a word. Guilt unfurled over him like a dark cloak, making Bodie cling ever more tightly to his partner, trying to convey with touch and pitifully inadequate speech his true concern.

"It'll be all right, Ray. We'll be in town in another few ticks...get you cleaned up...get everything taken care of," he said haltingly, squeezing Ray's arm supportively. The slight figure was stone in his hold.

"There's a good hospital in Maidstone; we'll have the doc check you over and fix you up," Bodie reassured him.

"No," came a low reply.

"No what?" Bodie was so encouraged at getting a response, he didn't care what the reason was.

"No doctors. No hospital. No bloody fucking Maidstone," Doyle growled.

"Whaddya mean? We're almost there."

"I want to go home." 

Bodie couldn't see the petulant look on Ray's face, but he could hear it in the tone of his voice. "It's sixty miles to London!" he exclaimed. "You're wearing a scrap of blanket, and the temperature's dropping faster than a tart's knickers on a Saturday night!"

"I don't care," Ray insisted. "I want to go home. I'll take the bike myself if you don't want to come. In fact, I'd prefer it."

"You can hardly see straight! You're in no state to go further the first emergency room I find." The dirt lane had brought them to a main road, and houses began to flash by.   The town was at hand.

"I said no doctors!" Ray shouted.   His humiliation at the thought of others knowing what had happened served to summon up fighting strength.   

Bodie tried a gentler approach. "Those weren't mudstains I saw on your back, sunshine. Some of those ribs could be fractured."

"I'll strap them myself. At home." The words were spoken with implacable determination. Bodie knew Doyle meant it. But burgeoning shame made him utter a final plea for a doctor.

"You should be looked after, Ray. You might have internal..." his words choked off. "Christ, you know what I mean!"

"Yeah, I know," came the cold voice. "You want to be sure your cock didn't rip out me guts. Nice of you to care. Bit late now to be worrying, of course." The voice was soft, matter-of-fact, and lashed Bodie as no screaming indictment could have. A shudder passed through the ex-mercenary as Doyle's contempt-filled assessment struck home.   

"Ray," he uttered softly, folding one arm over a too-rigid chest.

"You bastard. You bloody, bloody bastard."

_So this is how it ends_ , thought Bodie bleakly.   He'd done everything in his power to save his partner's life, and his reward was his partner's unyielding enmity.   His brutal act was reaping its bitter harvest.

Bodie hired a car in Maidstone, leaving his motorcycle as security. He handed the smirking clerk an extra twenty quid, with instructions to forget the bedraggled, blanket-draped figure who sat silently in the entryway as the transaction was completed.

It was a dreary monotonous drive to London.   There was nothing to look at but the patches of motorway outlined in the car's headlights, and Bodie's side window wouldn't close properly, letting in a cold whistling stream of air. He turned up the heater to compensate, then was forced to juggle between scorched toes and frozen ears for the rest of the journey. Ray slowly crumpled against his door, and Bodie thought he slept at least part of the way.   He longed to reach his arm around the huddled figure and pull him close, letting him drowse with his head on Bodie's knee. Anticipation of Ray's likely response kept both of Bodie's hands clamped to the steering wheel.

They arrived at Ray's flat shortly after midnight. A curious late night jogger stared at the ragged pair as they emerged from the car, but Bodie's glare was enough to send him hurrying along. Doyle stepped up to the front door then paused, looking utterly defeated.

"Haven't got the key," he whispered. He pressed his forehead to the painted surface of the door, bunching his fists as if he might beat the barrier down. "Had it in my pocket. It's still there, where ever my jeans are now. Shit."

"I've got mine," Bodie said quietly, and unlocked the door. His possession of the key to Doyle's home was a raw reminder of the trust they'd shared. Doyle entered without comment, and headed straight for the bathroom. His only words to Bodie, before slamming the bathroom door and locking it, were "Don't be here when I come out."

Bodie stood alone in the living area, wondering what he should do next. Ray had made his feelings on the matter clear, and perhaps it was best to let things settle quietly for the night. He'd done his duty anyway; he'd seen Ray safely home. Now it was time to slink quietly away and get very very drunk. Only... what if he'd really hurt Ray? What if, despite all the care he'd tried to take, he'd caused a serious injury? The job wasn't over then. Not until he'd examined Doyle and put right whatever he'd made wrong.

In the bathroom, Ray dropped the filthy scrap of blanket that had been his cloak for the last few hours. He kicked it into a corner, resolving to burn it in the morning, and had himself a good long piss; something he'd been wanting for what seemed ages. It hurt when he leaned over to yank the chain, and he grabbed hold of the tank for support until he could push himself upright again.

He wanted desperately to wash next, but the tub looked like a canyon, which, once descended into, would be impossible to re-emerge from. He plugged the basin up instead, filled it, and scrubbed his face. His flannel turned brown from the dirt loosened, followed quickly by a soiled soapy darkening of the water in the basin.

Feeling minutely more human, Ray dragged himself around to the full length mirror on the back of the door, and studied his reflection. He still looked haggard and dirty, but his face was recognizable once more. In fact it looked disturbingly normal for all the wretchedness he felt inside.

Doyle's eyes traveled further down the reversed image of his battered body. He touched the bruises on his ribs with delicate fingers, gaging the sensitivity of each mark, acknowledging that they needed strapping. Well, he had a first aid kit somewhere. Could probably even improvise with a T-shirt and a belt.

Doyle's hands slid lower, to matching sets of purple splotches on his hips. He fit his fingers to the impressions that Bodie's hard-gripping hands had made. The outlines were a little larger than his own hands, and angled in a way which reminded him of Bodie pulling his arse back and higher as he resisted. Stupid of him to resist. The son of a bitch was built like a tank; he should have rolled over and tucked his knees up to his ears and waved Bodie on through. Then he wouldn't have collected these extra souvenirs, these reminders which would take days to heal, and weeks to fade...   Ray turned from the mirror in revulsion.

He wanted to cover himself, and he grabbed the closest object at hand, wrapping himself in the voluminous white terrycloth robe Bodie had given him last Christmas. It was warm and fluffy and welcoming, sheltering him perfectly from the overwhelming sense of exposure and vulnerability he'd been carrying since the gang had stripped him of his clothes. It was indelibly connected with Bodie of course, but he would put that out of his mind for now, because it was perfect in every other way.

He opened the bathroom door, and saw Bodie was still there. "Piss off," he snapped churlishly, and stumbled past Bodie to the couch. There was his woolly knitted afghan, a present from his sister, across the foot of it. Wonderful. The bedroom seemed much too far away. Doyle sank tiredly onto the couch and pulled the afghan over him. It just covered him, so long as he kept his legs curled up.

Bodie watched his stiff movements, and knew he hurting. Steeling himself against Doyle's anger, he leaned over and shook the drowsy figure. "Ray, we've got some work to finish," he called softly.

With a low snarl, Doyle suggested he go to hell.

"Yeah, later," he promised. "C'mon Ray, can't go to sleep just yet." He shook the shoulder harder.

Bleary eyes opened and regarded Bodie sullenly. "Don't tell me you can get it up twice in one night." The quip carried no humor, only cutting anger.

"Give it a rest, sunshine," Bodie advised. His guilt quotient was overfilled, and threatened to burst under the pinpoint accuracy of Doyle's barbs. "You need help."

"I said I didn't want a doctor!" Doyle scowled, wary of Bodie's good intentions. "Nobody," he enlarged, unable to bear the thought of anyone knowing what he'd submitted to. "Go on, go home. Get out of my flat!"

"Okay," Bodie agreed. "So long as you let me check you over before I go."

"Get stuffed!" Doyle turned his back on Bodie. It was a tactical mistake. Bodie pushed up the drape of blanket and the hem of the robe, exposing Doyle's bruised backside. "Might as well get this out of the way first," he commented casually, angling a lampshade for better illumination of the site. Doyle whipped around, dragging the robe back down over his haunches.

"You got some bloody nerve, Bodie!   Get out!"

"Fine, I'll call a proper doctor then.   Maybe Cowley could recommend one."

Doyle's eyes blazed up at Bodie, helpless fury rekindled. "Y'bastard, y'know there'll be an inquiry!"

"Doesn't have to be," Bodie shrugged. "Let me take care of you, and I won't tell a soul. I don't want to make things worse than they've already been, sunshine.   But your body's took some insults tonight -- from me as well as the others -- and I'm not leaving till I know it's taken proper care of."

"Would you just leave off about my body?" Doyle snapped in disgust. "My body is going to be all right! It's you, it's that _you_ done this to me; that's what's got me ready to puke!"

There, it was said aloud. Doyle had been betrayed by his most trusted comrade, and though he had survived the deed, he could not forgive the doer.

"I had to do it, Ray," Bodie rebuked gently. "I told you that right at the beginning."

"No, you bloody well _didn't_ have to!" Doyle hauled himself up agitatedly, and began to pace the floor with quick sharp movements.   "You could have said no, you could have walked! You had them eating out of your hand --" he whirled on Bodie accusingly "-- there weren't none of them _making_ you do it!"

"That's right," Bodie said tightly, his guilt goading him to defensive anger, "I could have walked away, could have spared myself the trouble, and nobody would have stopped me. But what d'you think they would have done to _you_ , sunshine?" His heart was pounding at the memory of that terrible fear for Doyle's life.

Doyle did not seem as troubled. "They would have raped me themselves," he acknowledged coldly. "Think I didn't know that? Think I wouldn't rather be raped by them than someone I thought was my friend? Someone I thought _cared_."

Bodie's heart felt squeezed in his chest.   "Don't be bloody ridiculous!   They would have torn you to ribbons.   How could I have left you to them?" Unconsciously, his hands reached forward and gripped Doyle's shoulders, trying to keep hold of what had already been lost.

Doyle did not pull free of that grip. A cynical look came into his eyes, and he leaned closer to Bodie, thrusting his slender form into the larger man's hold.

"Yeah, you wanted to keep me all for yourself, didn't you?" he said knowingly, his mouth pursed alluringly but his eyes unsmiling. "Didn't matter to you what I might want. And once you decided to make that great sacrifice, staying put to screw me yourself, you didn't have much trouble doing it, did you?" Doyle's finger brushed Bodie's lips, then travelled slowly down the mercenary's body to his crotch. Bodie stood frozen, unable to even swallow.

"Knew just how make yourself hard as a diamond drill," Doyle whispered huskily. "Yeah, you liked getting your cock sucked. Or was it because it was my lips doing the sucking? You had no trouble humping me either; your prick just got bigger and harder every stab you gave me. Turned you on didn't it, me tied up and looking pitiful?   How long you been wishing you could screw me anyway? Oh, don't go looking so stricken. I've known. Every time you "accidently" groped my arse, I knew. I just never thought you'd actually jump me the first opportunity I couldn't stop you."   Doyle shifted his weight to one leg, his other hip canted forward suggestively, his hands stroking seductively along his flanks. It was an outrageously provocative pose, and he waited defiantly for Bodie's response.

_Christ, he's inviting me to rape him again_ , Bodie thought disbelievingly. And then Doyle's words and the calculated insult to Bodie's integrity caught up with his patience, overtaking it. Bodie didn't lose control; he abandoned it.

He leapt at the insolent figure in front of him, but his eyes telegraphed his intent and Doyle scrambled clear.   Enraged, Bodie charged after him, his progress barely checked by the chair Doyle flung in his path. Ray's escape was short-lived, for Bodie tackled him, bringing them both to the floor with a hard thump that wrenched a sob of pain from his partner.

Doyle struggled uselessly in Bodie's grip as the mercenary rolled him onto his back and used his greater bulk and weight to secure him in place. Keeping one hard thigh across Doyle's kicking legs, Bodie caught hold of Doyle's wrists and forced them down beside his head. Breathing hard, he glared back at the angry, frightened green eyes under him.

"You had to push it, didn't you," he growled, and jerked Doyle back in place as the other tried to squirm free.

"Go on, do it," Ray spat back.   "You've been wanting to for ages.   Got a nice taste of it tonight; why stop at one screwing when you can take all you like?"

"Shut up and listen, you little pricktease," Bodie snarled, dropping his full length onto Doyle and pressing him flat. Ignoring the stifled whimper this brought, he grabbed Ray's shoulders and dug in his fingers until the nails turned white. "Does this tell you anything? D'you feel how tight I've got hold of you? I never needed to wait for someone to tie you up if I'd wanted to rape you.   I could have had you anytime I'd wanted, could have helped meself to any part of you and you couldn't have stopped me, angel; not if I'd really wanted to jump you. Does that tell you anything?"

"Lemme go then, y'bastard! Takes a real man, don't it, to knock down a bloke what's already been beat up every which way from Friday!"

"Oh I'll let you go," Bodie promised heavily, "when I've done with you." At Doyle's stiffened reaction, he laughed, "Don't flatter yerself. I meant when I've done talking to you. I've had it to there and beyond with your little mind games, Ray."

"So it's my fault, what you done to me, is it?" Doyle said contemptuously. "Blame the victim, then you don't have to feel bad about attacking yer trusty old mate, eh?"

Bodie secured both of Doyle's wrists with his right hand, and pressed his left down firmly over Doyle's beautiful, venomous mouth. "Just shut up and listen. You want me to admit I've been tempted? I have! You're the sexiest little sod I've ever known, and what's wrong with me daydreaming a bit? You go flaunting yerself for inspection, wearing them tight clothes that show off all yer assets, and whose benefit have you been doing it for, eh? The milkman?   The landlady? Cowley? Come off it, mate, you tart yerself up for me, and we both know it. It puffs yer ego, getting me hot and sweaty. 'S a game, innit? Well that's all right, sunshine, 'cause I liked the game too. And I was willing to go right on looking and not touching, 'cause I don't trespass where I'm not welcome."

Bodie paused, fighting a wave of emotion which had surged up, threatening to swamp him. Doyle was rigidly still in his grip.

"I didn't want to do it, Ray. It made me sick to have to do it. You got no right accusing me of wanting to hurt you like that. As if I enjoyed it. How can you keep throwing it in my face, what I done to you, when you should be on your knees thanking me for making it as easy as I could for you?"

"Easy?!" Doyle howled, jerking his head free for a moment before Bodie's hand sealed his lips again.

"Oh, you have no idea, mate. You ever been whipped? Hard, on those bruised ribs? Fucked with a foot-long dildo? And don't think they didn't have the equipment there! Y'ever been pissed on and shit on and made to take two cocks up yer backside at once? I've seen all that and more. I've seen things in the jungle I hope you can't imagine. And if me screwing you -- yes, all right, raping you -- is going to spare your body and your life, then I'll bloody well do it all again!"

Bodie was shaking with emotion, dangerously close to weeping. "Jesus, Ray, can't you see how much I love you?" He let go of Doyle, sliding off him to sit beside him.

"You're a bloody liar," Ray whispered, color draining from his face. "You don't rape someone you love." He sat up as well, but made no move to escape now that he'd been released.

"No," Bodie breathed shakily, "I'm not lying, Ray. I'm a bastard maybe, for what I did. But I'm not a liar. I love you so bad it scares me."

And with that admission Bodie did start to cry, the sobs mangling his words as he told Ray what a beautiful helpless child he'd looked while captive, and how afraid Bodie had been of the bikers' intentions, and how he'd rather have made Ray hate him forever than to have let those animals touch his angel. The floodgates had opened, and all the thoughts and feelings he'd ruthlessly repressed came bursting through. The wash of emotion seemed to catch Doyle up too, for he listened without retort until Bodie was through.

They sat there then, minutes ticking by as silence claimed them. Bodie was spent, feeling hollow now all his secrets had spilled from his heart. He watched dully, knowing neither hope nor fear as Doyle staggered to his feet at last.

Ray drifted across the room as if in a trance, started to the kitchen, changed his mind, moved to the couch instead, fingered the afghan, then set it aside, walked to a bookshelf and picked up an old coffee mug, then started back to the kitchen with it. His brow furrowed as if his head ached, and he abruptly set the cup down again. He turned to stare at Bodie, and looked so confused, so unsure of himself that Bodie automatically rose and offered a steadying hand.

"D'you mean all that?" Doyle asked then, a little dubious, but rather hopeful.

"Course I do, you twit," Bodie snuffled, mopping his eyes with his shirt sleeves. "Been trying to get it through your thick skull all night."

Ray tipped his head back, staring up at the ceiling. "I wondered sometimes."

Bodie waited, giving Doyle time to make the decision he was obviously wrestling with inside. RayÌs troubled eyes met his at last, and Ray spoke softly but rapidly, as if to prevent himself censoring the words.

"I wanted you to notice me, think I even wanted you to fancy me. Certainly had it bad for you. And then at the camp, when you had me staked out on that bloody blanket, I thought, he won't do this, not my Bodie. He could never bring himself to hurt me. And then I saw how wrong I'd pegged you. Was wrong about everything, I thought." He suddenly found himself blinking back unexpected tears of his own.   

Bodie's hands cupped his face, broad thumbs coming up to wipe the tears off Ray's cheeks. "Yeah, you were wrong, sunshine. Not about everything, just about hurting you. I'd rather cut my own throat first, but I'll hurt you to save your life. Can't help it, Ray, I'm too bloody selfish to stand losing you."

His mouth lowered to Ray's, but paused just short of touching, asking permission. Ray closed the gap and pressed his lips to Bodie's in a long and sweetly tender kiss.

"So it's love then?" Ray asked when their lips parted at last. "We're off to a hell of a start."

"I expect it's like most things, takes practice."

Doyle chuckled at Bodie's wry prediction.   "Yeah, all right. We'll have to give each other marks."

"Ten out of ten for the kiss," Bodie replied promptly, leaning in for a replay. Doyle's hiccup of laughter broke the spell this time. Taking Bodie's hand, he drew himself up stiffly, leaning against the wall for support. "Ah! You've done me ribs no favor, mate."

"I'm sorry, Ray."

"Yeah, it's okay. I was asking for a thumping, wasn't I? I was so pissed off at blowing my cover and needing rescuing. Been blaming you for my own screw ups, and you kept letting me. Don't play the martyr again, Bodie, it's not natural."

"Will you let me check you over now?"

Ray snorted a pained laugh. "Persistent bugger. Yeah, might as well help me get cleaned up. Look after me to your heart's content."   He staggered back to the couch and dropped heavily onto it. "Ow. Me bruises have bruises."

Bodie untied the sash of his robe and opened it, feeling as giddily excited as a kid opening a birthday present. He gazed at the beautiful slender figure, and stroked a gentle hand along Doyle's discolored chest. "Why don't I run a bath for you?"

Ray closed his eyes and made a purring noise.

"That's a yes?"

"That's a yes please!" Ray affirmed emphatically. "What a stupid waste of time, fighting, when we could have been soaking in bliss!"

"We?"

"Fold you in a few places, you should fit," Ray yawned, and snuggled into a sofa cushion. "Go on, hurry up before I'm comatose." He listened with secret delight as Bodie padded to the bathroom and began filling the tub. Doyle thought he could easily get used to such attention. It was amazing really, how all seemed right with the world when just minutes ago he'd been ready to kill anyone who looked at him crosswise. Love was funny that way, wasn't it?

_Love?_

Yeah, well, they'd both said it, so there was no going back on it now. And he'd meant it, and he knew Bodie'd meant it, so that was that. He wasn't exactly sure where it would lead, but anything that could change you from feeling so cruddy to feeling so contented, well it just had to be good for you.

His affirmation was underscored as Bodie returned and helped him to the tub, lowering him into its blessed heat and soaping him from head to wriggling toes.

"It's not really the proper treatment for bruises," Bodie mused, carefully scrubbing the dirty, slippery little body.

"Feels good," Ray grunted, lolling his head back and thrusting his chest up for Bodie's sponge to soak.   "Why, what's the treatment of choice?"

"Ice cubes in a towel, wrapped round the sore parts."

Ray shuddered. "Sounds like something Macklin'd suggest."

"Keeps the skin from swelling. Numbs the pain."

"Yeah, right after they peel you off the ceiling. Think I'll stay sore and swollen, thank you. Then you can keep looking after me." He let out a long deep-throated sigh as Bodie poured steamy water over his shoulders, sluicing away the soap. "More," he rumbled, luxuriating in the heat and liquid buoyancy around him. All remnants of hurt and anger had long since dissipated into it, and Ray himself was beginning to look just as dissipated.

"It's sinful, the way you enjoy being bathed," Bodie muttered, strangling his sponge as Doyle's hips undulated with the gentle rocking of the water. 

"Sinful how good your hands feel on me," Doyle slurred, his eyes closed and head sunk back into the water. He swallowed some of the bathwater as he spoke, and spat it out with a grimace. "Drain the dirt out, mate, let's fill it fresh and have a lie in."

Bodie followed his instructions, leaving him wet and naked, exposed to the air as the water slowly drained. He started to shiver, then with a splash Bodie joined him and scooted behind him and folded him in a warm embrace, drawing him back to lie secure in the circle of Bodie's arms.

They refilled the tub with fresh hot water and soaked together in an exhausted stupor. Slowly the water worked its magic, drawing away their aches and weariness, leaving them both relaxed and refreshed.

At last there was no more hot water to top up the tub, and Bodie lifted a protesting Doyle up and off to bed, towelling him dry and beginning the careful process of binding his hurts.

"You'll have me looking like the mummy exhibit if you don't give it a rest," Doyle complained eventually, as Bodie wound stiff strips of first aid bandage around his chest. "Oof. I can't breathe with it this tight."

"You need it. I'll bet an x-ray would show your ribs cracked all through like old china."

"Royal Doulton," Doyle suggested dreamily. "That's me.   Too valuable to actually use; I should kept on display on the mantel."

"More like the nursery stuff, I should think. When we unwrap you in a few days we'll see a floppsy bunny picture at the bottom."

Bodie continued winding the bandage on until it was used up. He pinned the end, and tested the fit by inserting a finger under the layers. It barely gave.

"How's that, then?"

"Sore as hell."

Bodie frowned, wondering if the bandages had been spread too thin. He looked about the room to see if there was anything he could adapt for more strips to bind up Doyle's ribs, and fingered a pillowcase appraisingly.

Doyle snatched it away, guessing his intentions. "Enough!   Any more bandaging and I won't be able to move!"

"All right," Bodie relented. "One last thing, and we're done."   He slid his hand down Doyle's flank and cupped the curve of his rump. "Lie on your side, angel."

Doyle swallowed a bit hard, but slid down obediently, rolling over to present his backside to Bodie. "Know much about doctoring there?" he asked, a little apprehensive.

"Enough." Bodie's fingers gently pried his cheeks apart, stroking and probing the outer surfaces for signs of damage. "Doesn't look too bad so far. More bruises, but no blood."

"Doesn't hurt much," Doyle agreed, his stomach tightening with a mixture of discomfort and pleasure as Bodie's fingers explored him.

"Okay, I'm going feel up inside now.   I've got the antibiotic cream from the first aid kit; it should be a good lubricant, too. Try to relax yer bum."

Bodie's words echoed his earlier warning from the rape, but this time his voice was so soft and caring that Ray responded with instant trust. He felt a slick touch at the center of his arse, then a nudge and the finger was inside him, delicately probing the inflamed membranes there.

"You're a bit swollen, but that's nothing dangerous," Bodie advised, pushing his finger deeper until it was inserted all the way. "Does this hurt?" he asked, and pressed on something so exquisitely sensitive and exciting that Doyle's genitals became instantly engorged.

"Christ no! Do that again!" he urged, shifting his bum back against Bodie's hand for easier penetration.

Bodie chuckled wickedly. "Liked that, did you? You can't be too badly hurt then, if your prostate's feeling so chipper."

Doyle wriggled at him, trying to make contact between the finger and his pleasure center. "C'mon Bodie, do that again."

There was a fumbling deep inside him, then another jolt of pure pleasure shot through him. "Oh! That's wonderful!" Doyle groaned in appreciation.   His penis throbbed into erection, and his balls felt achingly alive. "Come on then, don't stop!"

Bodie found Doyle's open enjoyment rather endearing. He loved the way his randy little toad of a partner could turn on at a moment's notice, transforming from a tired rag doll to a creature of instinctive sexual abandon, all at the touch of a well-placed finger. Bodie vibrated his finger lightly at the sensitive gland, feeling a thrill of excitement himself as Doyle clutched the bedclothes and moaned in response.

"Lemme bring you off," Bodie offered huskily, stroking a bath-dampened flank with his other hand. Doyle had experienced how unpleasant forced male sex could be; now Bodie wanted to share the delights that were possible.

"Yeah," Ray assented, giving a little gasp as Bodie's fingers worked at him. "Show me. Do me. Ah, that's good..." his words trailed off into pleasured crooning as Bodie stroked between his legs, massaging deep inside him all the while. Then the ex-mercenary extracted his finger carefully from Doyle's tightly clasping rectum, and used both hands with deft assurance to simulate his partner's trembling balls and straining cock.

Ray's helpless abandon unleashed a surge of passion in Bodie. He wanted to feast on the delectable creature he held, to smother him with kisses and impale him on Bodie's own aroused flesh, and ride him till they both merged into one ecstatic being. But control was ever a concern for Bodie. Now was not the time for such actions; now, only Bodie's restraint could safeguard Doyle's surrender. He had amends to make, hurts to heal, before he could allow himself to be lost in the innocent, instinctive maelstrom of Ray's sexuality.

Bodie leaned over Ray and kissed his ear through the damp curls encircling it. "You enjoying this, sunshine?" he whispered.

A breathy moan answered him. Bodie nuzzled his way over to Ray's mouth and captured it with a lush sweep of his lips, savoring the taste of Ray on his tongue. His hands worked steadily at Doyle's body, slowly driving his partner mad with the teasing caresses.

"D'you want more, Ray?"

"Yeah..." Doyle sighed, arching against the hands that cupped him.

Bodie lowered his mouth to Doyle's throbbing staff and swallowed it down. Doyle gave a cry of pleasure as his aching flesh was sucked down a wet tunnel of softness. Bodie's head rose quickly as he took a gulp of air, then he was swallowing the rod again, sliding it down his throat until his lips brushed Doyle's nether curls.

"Christ, how d'you do that?!" Doyle gasped, his toes curling with sheer hedonistic delight.

"Tibetan breathing control," Bodie panted as he came up for air, then suckled his way back down again.

"You're yankin' me chain!" Doyle accused, and then dissolved in a fit of giggles at the realization that this was exactly what Bodie was doing.

"All right, I made the last bit up." Bodie sat back, waiting for Doyle's giggles to subside. Ray looked positively scrumptious to him, his shoulders shaking and full lips pursing as he sniggered. "Learnt it from me roommate when I was last in hospital, actually," Bodie said impulsively.

Ray's eyebrows levitated questioningly.   "What, the fat feller with asthma in the bed next to you? You never! He done you?   Really?"

"Yeah," Bodie said solemnly. "Was _amazing!_ He could deepthroat a Brahmin bull. Had a tracheotomy tube in his neck; didn't need to come up for air. Could swallow you all the way down and keep you there till morning. Really amazing."

"He really sucked you off at night?   Right there in the ward, with all them nurses coming and going without never knocking? Breathin' through a flippin' tube?"

Bodie's lips twitched with a little smile.   Doyle swore and threw his pillow at the tale-teller, then collapsed in giggles again at the image Bodie'd created in his mind. His partner watched him appreciatively, broad grin now stretching across his face. _Bodie always looks so damn sweet when he smiles_ , Doyle thought. _You'd never guess the devil that's lurking behind those smooth looks._ He wanted Bodie, a desire that was so strong, so needful, that he couldn't believe he'd ever waited this long to be loved by him.

"Why don't you stop screwing around, and start screwing proper?" Doyle suggested crudely, drawing one leg up to better expose himself.

Bodie's eyes seemed to glaze for a moment, then he shook himself and gently pushed the leg down. "You're too hurt, Ray. It's a lovely thought, so I'll take a rain check if you please."

"I'm a tough lad, Bodie. If you didn't break me before, I know you're not going to damage me now."

Bodie brought his hands up to sink in the soft auburn curls. He held Doyle's head still for a deep kiss. "You're the toughest, sunshine. It's me what's made out of jelly and marshmallows. I'm too soft to even bear thinkin' of you hurtin'."

"The bloke what tumbled me on the very hard, and might I add very cold, linoleum, not an hour and a half since?"

Bodie kissed him again. "Yeah, that silly old bugger. He's fallen for you just as hard." Bodie wanted to prove he deserved the trust Ray offered anew. He slid his hands under Ray's hips, pulling them around to lie flat, and straddling Ray across his thighs. He palmed Ray's balls to dissuade his partner from arguing, and found it an effective strategy.   Doyle turned on like a well-oiled engine, purring his approval as Bodie manipulated his body.

When he'd gotten Doyle settled back and stiffly erect, Bodie anointed himself with the first aid cream, rose to his knees, centered Doyle, and sank slowly back down, pierced on Doyle's cock. _I've been inside his body, and now he's inside mine,_ thought Bodie with dazed wonder as the fleshy rod slid up him.

Ray convulsed as the muscular slabs of Bodie's backside tightened, gripping him hard. The jerk on his cock felt like an industrial milking pump run amok. It was making him hotter than hell, making him feel like a adolescent again, unable to control the fire ignited in his loins. Bodie's arse settled down on his hips, spread wide and strained by the bulk of Doyle's stiff flesh inside it. Bracing himself on Doyle's shoulders, Bodie began flexing himself up and down the pole implanted in him.

Doyle moaned and writhed his cock was engulfed, finding ecstasy in the incredible tightness of the passage. The heat of Bodie's inner body stoked the burning in his pulsing organ, slowly driving him to madness. 

Ray's head was flung back, eyes unfocused and unseeing as his body's reports swamped all his senses. He felt Bodie's hands cover his, urging them down to the root of Bodie's own quivering erection. He wrapped his fingers around the organ, and began pumping it. The long slender fingers worked Bodie to a frenzy of motion, squeezing his staff with a near stranglehold as Bodie bucked and rode Doyle. And then they were frozen, locked together in orgasm. Bodie's cock creamed over and his arse contracted sharply, seeming to squeeze Ray's ejaculation forth in one endless burst.

Drained at last, Ray rested secure in the possessive embrace of Bodie's body. The ex-mercenary rumbled his contentment, gathering Doyle close and intertwining his legs with Ray's. His spent cock was nestled in the hollow of Doyle's hip, and he rubbed himself on the naked skin with simple enjoyment at the contact. Ray's head burrowed under his chin, curls tickling at Bodie's throat. Doyle seemed to enjoy being held and cuddled close, while Bodie reveled in the pleasure of touching his wanton cherub with all his body. 

"Was good, Bodie," came a soft whisper from below.

"Course it was, my son," he whispered back. "Blessed art those, oh lord, who know a good fuck when they get one."

A deep chuckle answered him, and Doyle knitted his fingers with Bodie's before drifting to sleep, still wrapped tight in Bodie's limbs.

"Was good here too," Bodie admitted more softly, bestowing a final sleepy kiss on a nearby ear before succumbing to sleep himself.

  

Doyle dreamt of the rape that night. Events unfolded in his mind as they had at the campground, but this time when he was overpowered and tied to the stakes through the blanket, Bodie cut him loose and gathered him in his arms and shielded him from the cold.

"This is my partner!" Bodie shouted defiantly at the pack of rogues around them. "You scum want to see me screw him? I'll show you how I do it!"

And with that, Bodie stretched out beside Ray, petting him and stroking him and kissing him until a fire was lit between them, and Ray was hungrily pulling Bodie atop him. They kissed face to face, and Ray's legs parted, sliding up Bodie's smooth flanks to rest across his back, inviting Bodie to penetrate the opening between his cheeks. Distantly, he could hear the bikers hooting and cheering, but all his concentration was centered on the man in his arms who gazed down with love as their bodies united.

Ray woke with a gasp, still feeling the piercing joy of that union even as the dream faded. He found himself still in Bodie's close embrace, and relaxed back with a fuzzy warm feeling of belonging. His cock was throbbing uncomfortably, though, stimulated by the dream and the feel of Bodie's limbs lying heavy on his. Surreptitiously he freed one hand and eased it down to squeeze at the stiffness between his thighs. It was done silently, but the movement must have roused Bodie, for a larger hand nudged his away and took hold of the unruly member itself.

"Bodie..."

"Shhh, it's all right."

And the hand stroked him slowly until he trembled and came. He felt Bodie rocking against his backside at the same time, felt the sliding rub of Bodie's thick cock along the cleft of his cheeks. Moments after he'd come, he heard Bodie grunt and felt the warm spill of semen between his thighs.

They lay together silently for a time, then Bodie kissed Doyle's neck, sending shivers down his back, and announced it was past time to get up.

"D'you feel up to working today, pet?" Bodie asked, drawing his lover up from under the covers and frowning at the time-darkened bruises this revealed.

"No," Ray admitted, "but we can't hide out from Cowley forever, can we?"

"We'll have to file a report on what happened. Not the nasty bits," Bodie added hastily, "but that you were recognized and roughed up, and we had to leave the operation. The Cow can send another team in to clean up."

"I suppose we'd better practice our stories so they won't contradict each other," Ray said resignedly.

"Let's see..." Bodie mused, "I went out undercover, and fell madly in love with a randy little foul-tempered exhibitionist with the sweetest hind quarters this side of the Atlantic.   And you?"

Ray snorted. "I fell for a muscle-bound SAS fella with a bandaging fetish, who plays kinky games in the bath. What _will_ the neighbors say?"

"Congratulations?"

It was a joking rejoinder, but Bodie's voice held a wistful note, and Ray choked up and grabbed him. Bodie held him as he shook with remembered horrors, babbling his love for Bodie all the while.

"I'm sorry I acted like such a berk back there," Ray sniffed finally, still clinging to the pillar of stability that was Bodie. "I didn't mind you touching me up, didn't even mind sucking on you. It was having to do it, not having a choice. And them others being there, acting like I was the town whore. You were the only good part in the whole thing. I was wishing you'd hold me and love me, and instead you were acting like a right bastard. I know you had to.   Scared me half witless though, loving you and wanting you and hating you all at the same time."

"Scared me too, angel."

They cuddled together some more, Bodie soothing Ray with the secure body contact and a gentle hand stroking through his curls.

"Bad enough you're so fucking gorgeous," Ray sighed. "But it's all wrapped round some steely core just pulsing with power and energy and ferociousness, an' Christ, it's all so disciplined and controlled. And when you touch me, I near wet myself. Dunno how you do it, but I like it."

"I ate all me Wheatabix growing up," Bodie replied solemnly.

"Yeah, bet you just _devoured_ it.   That's what it felt like, making love with you. Like you wanted to gobble me up. Don't know what I can offer next to all that, but don't I just feel smug as a cat in the cream that you want me. Y'can have any girl or any fella you crook yer finger at, and here you've been waitin' for me." 

"Yeah," Bodie agreed softly, "Weren't nobody else in the whole world I wanted as much. An' now I got you, I'm keeping you. Forever, eh?"

"Don't be daft, Bodie. There's no forever in our line of work."

"Sure there is," Bodie replied promptly. "Haven't you ever had to stand at attention for one of the Cow's lectures?"

Ray's brow knitted. "Oh Christ, Cowley. We've got to get up, get a move on, sunshine." Ray struggled to his feet. Bodie was at his side in an instant, helping him stretch stiff muscles and clamber into a clean shirt and trousers. But then he interposed himself between Ray and the bathroom door.

"C'mon, I'm going to burst," Doyle protested as he was barred entry.

"I didn't hear the answer I wanted," Bodie remarked, keeping Doyle at arm's length.

"To what? Oh, the forever. You're a romantic sod, aren't you? Okay, I still say there's no forever, but you got me as long as you want to keep me. And if you can make it forever, so can I."

"I can do anything," Bodie said smugly. "We'd best plan on a long future."

"Not if you don't let me use the bloody loo first!

Bodie grinned and let Doyle pass. _Cheeky little ragamuffin_ , he thought fondly. _I can't wait to tumble him back in bed tonight._

But he didn't have to wait that long, for once Doyle finished tending his most pressing need, he decided the hell with Cowley and took a detour with Bodie back to the bedroom. They were late reporting in of course, but so wonderfully rested that they never minded the lecture.


End file.
